


a collection of drabbles

by fightfortherightsofhouseelves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightfortherightsofhouseelves/pseuds/fightfortherightsofhouseelves
Summary: A collection of drabbles, mostly featuring Harry and Ginny (but with magical little sparks of Romione and Bill&Fleur here and there), in various moments throughout their lives. Because there are times in life which can make you or break you, but they have an understanding that they will tame fate together, come what may.





	1. he looks at her and sees the rest of his life

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble#1: He looks at her and sees the rest of his life
> 
> with a sparkle of Valentine's spirit

He looks at her and sees the rest of his life. Indeed, he's quite young to want to settle down, but he's had enough diversity in the last eighteen years to be utterly and completely sick of it. He does not care for the cruelties of fate anymore; he counts the seconds until she nestles in his arms again, the pause between one and the next with the times their fingers lace together and the unbearable moments they do not.

He rubs a calloused thumb softly against her bruised knuckles, another trophy of her recent Quidditch practice. She's been giving it her all, his Ginny, and he's confident she'll make the team by the end of the year. There is strength in her, flowing from her posture, from the wrinkles of her being. She can do whatever she sets her mind to, whatever she pleases. He notices that her dainty, soothing hands are gently bathed in freckles, and somehow he feels a slash of pain in his heart and the need to kiss the blisters of those hands, to worship those two unwearied hands that nursed him back to sanity. Oh, she'd been relentless, dragging him with all her might from the horrors of his own troubled mind. She's always known how to close the distance between their jaded hearts.

He watches the sun caressing her long red tresses and knows she's created an eternal home inside his heart. She's wearing lipstick today, in honour of the occasion. He acknowledges it is solely for his benefit and his chest swells with pride. He finds solace and a feeling of being at ease with the world hidden in the delicate arch of her lips. His gaze traces the contours of her upper lip, of the slight curving in the shape of a heart and knows he'd rather face death again than renounce the privilege of ravishing her impishly smart mouth. He prays that fate will be kind enough to grant them the joy, the bliss of turning forever together, two wandering souls safe from the madness of the world.

A blazing spark enshrouds her deep chocolate eyes. He smiles at the back of his mind, wondering what mischief and mayhem still lays ahead of them. She likes a laugh, she does, and Harry wholeheartedly volunteers to be the one to make her laugh, to witness those pearly white teeth reveal as her head leans back and her shoulders shake.

He marvels at the sense of completeness spending hours on end with her in this small café gives him. Truth be told, he'd have been eager to spend Valentine's with her on the other side of the Earth, if that was what she desired. He'd have walked with her all the way, and all the way he'd have held her hand in an everlasting grip, just to ensure they would never lose each other again. He feels his eyebrows draw closer at this infuriating thought and a crease forming between them.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ginny asks, her smile aloof. He has that funny glint in his eyes, Harry. "Is there something on my face?" She begins to feel self-conscious, his intense stare painting her freckled cheeks pink.

"Yeah," he grins. "Me," Harry leans over the small round table of the overcrowded coffee shop and kisses her firmly at first, then tenderly. He couldn't care less that so many people became spectators to their intimate moment; he'd happily drown in their kiss, spend days exploring every inch of her mouth, brushing mercilessly over her swollen lips until she could take it no more.

In the inbetweens of his life, there had always been Ginny, you see. Always there, unyielding, fighting the ripples and the waves of grief and searing pain, pulling him to the surface. She'd found enough beauty in the cracks of his soul to stand close, helped him carry the remains of someone he used to be and part with them serenely. As sudden as feathers's swish in flight, he realises that this life he is living, the rights nows and tear-stained moments, this life somehow became the story he's forever wanted to tell.

Yes, he looks at her and sees the rest of his life.


	2. here's to the new year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble#2: Here's to the New Year
> 
> with a spark of new year's resolutions

_Three…two…one! Happy New Year!_

Harry and Ginny heard the clatter of half-excited, half-tired voices coming from the valley where the Burrow had always been hidden. Cold chills and icy breathing was all that surrounded them, as they hovered over the frozen countryside hills. Ginny's old broomstick took them away from the commotion, in an attempt to steady their thoughts. It had been a terrible year. A vile decade, in fact. They were some of the last ones standing.

"Make a wish," Ginny broke the silence.

"What?" Harry asked, caught off guard on a lingering thought.

"You have to make a wish. Choose your words right because it might just come true," she further explained. They hit the Comet's brakes and paused, allowing themselves space to think, to remember, to find the strength to carry on.

"I wish to never see war again…," the young witch added in half a whisper. The hands that until then only held her for balance tightened around her waist, in reassurance.

"And I wish to never lose another person I love…," he said, casting his own wish into the night sky, feeling her hands clasp against his own. The horizon was magically illuminated with every possible color. Graceful creatures were twirling about, diving through the stars. The last products of 1998 trademarked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had been a masterpiece.

"I wish to never be forced to leave you again," Harry heard the words escape his mouth before he could bite them back.

"Is that more than you want me to make of it?" the redhead asked. She was wearing an amused expression on her face, as she turned her head to look at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe let's just wait and see," Harry shrugged, grinning slightly.

"You're absolutely mad," Ginny laughed whole-heartedly, spinning around on her broom so she could face him.  _Yes, 1999 holds all the promises of a good year_ , _a better year,_ she thought to herself while analyzing his features, taking in the way his jaw fixed in a signal that he had set his mind on a particular something.

Up in the air they lost themselves in a dazing kiss, two fatigued soldiers of a terrible, scarring war.


	3. which one's which

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy another unrelated hinny drabble, this time with a sparkle of romione

“Grab the portkey, quick!” Harry gestured towards Ron, shuffling his feet as fast as he could. The old, deflated ball was glowing an intense shade of green, signaling that they had mere seconds before they missed their ride home. The Aurors had spent their last month in trenches, sweat and self-loathing, thus rendering the prospect of being further deprived of the warm embrace of their wives completely and utterly infuriating.

“Which one’s which?” Ron switched his attention to a nice black stiletto shoe on the ground, seeming as though it belonged to a Cinderella of the night.

“I’m positive Robards said the ball was mine,” Harry responded, attempting a wild jump and stretching as far as he could to reach the glowing object. His best friend nodded and caught on to the stiletto for dear life.

In the blink of an eye, they were gone, swirling and whirling on their way to their respective houses.

Ron Weasley landed with bang, nearly gaining a concussion in the process of pealing himself off the kitchen floor. The portkey had thrown him almost underneath the table, forcing the redhead to crawl in order to avoid an unhealthy contact between the top of his head and the hard material.

“Huh, this is odd,” he thought, squinting his eyes as he tried discerning the objects around him. “I reckon the kitchen did not look this way before I left. Hermione must have redecorated in my absence. Bless her soul, she must have missed me,” Ron smiled to himself, thinking of his wife fussing around, trying to surprise him. He climbed the steps to their bedroom, smirking and imagining just how he’d like to thank her for her little caring gestures.

Stripping down his dirty clothes, his socks, and opening the door with a swing of his buttocks, Ron took in the form lightly sleeping underneath the covers.

“Honey, I’m home,” he said in his sultriest of tones, spinning around as he pulled off his underpants in what he considered to be a sexy dance. Unfortunately, the beneficiary of this hot number did not bother to wake up, which did nothing to kill the young man’s buzz. It’s not everyday that a husband returns to his wife after a deadly and month-long mission, you see.

Ron jumped on top of the mattress and languorously crawled on all fours, bare as the day he was born, to the place where the petite figure was resting. Drawing away the cover only slightly, he closed his eyes and lowered his head to plant the most passionate kiss he was capable of. A shriek, followed by a hard slap across the face, made his eyelids open wide and the rest of his body nearly fall off the king-sized bed.

“Bloody hell, woman! It’s only me, your loving husband!” He said, most offended, rubbing intensely at his throbbing left cheek.

“Ewewewewewewewewewewew, _EW_!” a voice that he was positive did _not_ belong to Hermione answered his complaints.

Feeling his heart stop for a moment, he suddenly became more aware of his surroundings. He certainly was not within the coziness of his own bedroom, but inside Harry’s. And the woman he’d tried to woo into having hot steamy sex with him only a few seconds earlier was definitely _not_ Hermione, but his own damn sister. And she was staring at him, sprawled on the floor in just his skin, the expression on her face promising a painful farewell to world of the living.

In another part of England, Hermione’s scream woke the dead on a hundred kilometer radius, as a naked Harry stood hiding in a corner, frightened out of his wits and silently vowing to never trust his instincts and memory again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's chat endlessly on tumblr: fightfortherightsofhouseelves  
> i enjoy discussing hinny and everything harry potter forever and ever and ever and ever and, yep, ever!


	4. big brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even Ginny needs her big brother when it comes to matters of the heart

“You really do care about him, don’t you?” Bill Weasley whispered and put an arm around his little sister’s shaking shoulders.

She did, oh how much she did. Hard as it was to admit it these days, she was so in love with him it hurt. And the hurt and despair only got harder to carry around as the days passed and nobody knew anything about him, if he was alive or barely breathing. Except that her older brother, the person she trusted and looked up to more than anyone else, he now knew where Harry was and what he was doing and how he was feeling and even how his stupid hair used to look today, while she was locked inside this house with no way to escape. She’d give anything to swap places with Bill and be able to look him in the eye and trace her fingers through his raven dark hair just one more time. Just one more bloody time before she could allow herself to think of letting go.

Bill brought her closer to his chest and rested his chin on top of her head, just like he used to do when Ginny was a child. She never showed her weaknesses in front of anyone, but she felt she could always let Bill see her true colors.

The young witch felt something break inside her at the familiarity of her brother’s arms around her and she let go of the wave or tears and sadness that she’d carried in her soul all year long. She cried until she felt numb, she screamed until her throat was sore, clutching at his shirt. When there were no more tears to cry, Ginny collapsed on the floor and sat still, not a thought or feeling spared to hunt her.

Bill crouched down next to her, lightly running his knuckles in circles on her back. He could understand the pain and heartbreak his baby sister was going through - he would have gone insane if it’d been Fleur instead of Harry. But he could also feel anger and rage boiling inside his mind, imagining how he’d twist the boy’s neck for making her ache so. Bill sighed and tied his hair into a ponytail, something he did when he felt nervous and frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Ginny…,” he started, but she made a noise that clearly told him she did not want to be pitied.

“You know, I’ve always admired how tough you are. Even as a child, you were incredible and I knew you could get through anything if you put your mind to it,” Bill began and waited to see if he could continue. “Until one summer when you met Harry Potter and I knew, I just knew it would be the one thing you’d never get over,” he added, drops of sadness in his voice. “And I watched you that summer, at the World Cup and after, you were positively head over heels,” Bill smiled for a second before the crease between his ginger eyebrows returned. “I knew you would end up together - what blistering idiot would ever say no to you?” Ginny snorted through her tears. “And that’s when I started being truly afraid because I knew who he really was and what that would mean for you.” Bill paused, gathering his thoughts. “That, Ginny, is why I am sorry: because I just stood and didn’t do anything to prevent you battling all this pain and misery on your own,” he finally said, feeling his chest swell with pain.

Ginny turned to face him, a fierce and hard expression on her face. “I’d never give up on him,” she pressed on every word. “Never,” she punctuated, pushing her long red hair out of her eyes. “I love him,” her chocolate orbs closed and she couldn’t hold her brother’s gaze any longer for fear that she might cry again.

“I know,” he said and hugged her to his chest again, creating a protective shield between his little sister and the madness of the world.

Ginny cried through most of that night, but this time she had her big brother to hold her and make her feel safe, even if only for a small while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to explore their relationship, as Ginny looks up to Bill and it would only be natural that he be there for her during the time she had to go into hiding and Harry was at Shell Cottage :) Exploration continues through small drabbles like this one and my Bill/Fleur multi-chapter titled "Spirit"! 
> 
> If you feel like discussing the baby sister-cool big brother relationship or you have any prompts that you'd like to be turned into a fic/drabble, drop me a message on tumblr: @fightfortherightsofhouseelves :)


	5. celebration preparation

“Does this make me look fat?”

“No, I’ve told you six times already,” a bored voice floated from behind.

“Really? I think it makes my bum stand out too much, don’t you reckon?”

A smack on his left butt cheek was all the answer he got, as his fiancée made her way between himself and the mirror.

“Harry, if anything, those bottoms make you look even hotter, yeah?” she bit her lip, giving him that naughty look he liked so much.

“Why can’t we wear robes, though?” an exasperated cry and his hands ran through his black messy hair back and forth.

“Because,” Ginny started, feeling that she was about to either lose her temper or help him out of those tight suit bottoms and have her way with him, she couldn’t really decide. “That’s not the dress code,” she continued and her explanation was greeted with a pout.

Albeit she could admit, after several pints of a certain something, that she might’ve sort of bought his black suit a wee bit too tight, but a girl is entitled to have her small distractions to brighten the day. And if said distraction happened to be the sweet cheeks of her fiancé, what could she do about it?

“Be good, love,” she tried softening his boyish scowl by planting a light kiss on his stubbled jaw. “And you might discover,” her skilful fingers straightened his black tie, “that I,” she took two steps backward to admire her work, feet stopping as they came into contact with the four poster occupying half the bedroom, “might not be wearing anything underneath,” her hand motioned from her flat belly to her freckled thighs, where the dress provocatively ended.

Harry James Potter felt weak in the knees. Like a sleepwalker, he stumbled towards her, eyes on the prize and a mollified smile on his lips. But, with a sly move, she hopped to the side and avoided him, his tall form meeting the springy mattress Ginny had insisted they bought when she moved in.

“Told you,” she poked him in the ribs, “you need to be good first and be my date for this boring party.”

“But -,”

“And once we get back home, I’ll see what I can do to make it worth your while,” she cut him off firmly. Through the raven black fringes of the mess his hair had reverted to, Harry could notice she was grinning and thoroughly enjoying herself.

Jumping up with an agility worthy of his Seeker days, he circled one arm around her slim waist and lifted the redheaded young woman up one shoulder. Holding on tight, he sprinted towards the hallway and proceeded to magic his shoes on, accompanied by a fit of yells and protests from the small witch on his back.

“What are you doing, you complete loon?” she queried, half-mad, yet half-amused.

“I’m speeding this bloody thing up,” Harry replied nonchalantly, “you know, so we can return faster.”

His last words were lost amidst the loud _bang_ of him side-along Disapparating, with Ginny laughing hard over his shoulder, heart full of love for the madman she was soon to marry.


	6. brotherly love

He focused his attention on the gingerhaired girl, a mock replica of his teenage years, counting down the seconds till she’d fancy explaining herself. She always did talk, eventually. She functioned like a ticking bomb, Ginny, keeping silent until she exploded. So he went on staring, blinking at times and unrelentingly rapping his fingers on the armrest. He’d seen her throw tantrums since she’d learned how to walk and talk, this was nothing new.

“I’m not telling you,” she scoffed, unable to control her irritation any longer.

“Mm-hmm.”

Rap-rap-rap, that rhythm he was pursuing, that smug look, that all-knowing twinkle in his eye – she wanted to scream at him and maybe let the five year old raging inside her loose to pull his ponytail, like she used to years ago when he got her mad, and call it a day.   

“Smile all you want, it’s absolutely no use,” Ginny huffed, arms crossed tightly and one annoying strand of her falling into her eyes. How can she bloody get rid of it without uncrossing her arms? Appearing less annoyed was not an option so she had to buckle up and power through it.

“Right,” her older brother drawled, resting his chin on his fist and faking a yawn, as if to indicate he was slowly getting bored of her antics. Which, frankly, got under her skin more than she would’ve liked to admit, but now there was no turning back.

“What exactly do you see in her?” she spat, turning her head towards him so fast she slapped her own cheek with a long red lock of hair. She decided to act as if though that did not happen and keep her frown game strong.

“There it is,” he grinned, straightening his back and mentally readying himself for what could easily become the first real row he ever had with his little sister.

“Why do you like her so much?” she carried on, giving no sign that she’d acknowledged his subtle mockery. “Is it because you need a bit of adventure? A pinch of drama? Some glamour in life?” the fifteen year old hissed. She felt her brother’s scrutinising gaze scan her from head to toe, still she refused to feel intimidated.

“Nice blow, little sister, but allow _me_ to ask _you_ : why do you like him so much? Is it because you need a bit of adventure? A pinch of drama? Some glamour in life?”

His response came like a slap on the back of her head and he looked so pleased with himself she felt like yelling in frustration. Praying for all the control she had left, Ginny let herself collapse back into her favourite armchair, glaring at her brother for good measure.

“We’re not so different, you and me, Gin. I like her because I do, there’s no explaining that. Did you ever question your feelings for Harry? Bloody hell, don’t give me that look, I’ve seen you round him. Maybe he’s oblivious enough to miss it, but I saw you being born, so there’s quite few secrets you can keep from me, yeah?” he leaned forward, a softer shade in his eyes.

Ginny clenched her jaw and wrinkled her nose and she did what she could not to stick her tongue out at him.

“I reckon you’re not too happy having to share the room with her as you’ve always had your space and it appears I can’t convince Mum to be more reasonable, but think of it this way: it’s just a few more days and we’re going back to her’s and then it’s over. You’re free,” Bill smiled.

“You live together?” now he’d gotten her attention.

“You see, it’s what people do when they fall in love,” he said and the expression on his face was so sweet as he mouthed the last two words, Ginny felt the tightness in her chest clear even if only a bit.

“Oh…,” was all she could say. In truth, the thought of her brother actually being in love never crossed her mind. She always felt that he, you know, maybe fancied her for her looks, like any other bloke still displaying vital signs.

“Hey,” the young man interrupted her internal monologue. “This doesn’t change anything between us, okay? It simply makes me happier,” he leaned even closer and took her hand, freckles clashing with freckles on pasty skin. She briefly nodded, finally giving in, a hard long sigh escaping her lips. Maybe she could do it, for him. For the brother that always listened to her, sat through all her role-playing games summer after summer, the one who gave her the confidence she needed to deal with life itself.

“Besides, you’ll always be my favourite sister,” he grinned, batting his eyelashes innocently.

Ginny instantly withdrew her hand, incensed, and jumped straight to her feet.

“I’m your _only_ sister,” he heard her growl as she stomped her way up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her. Bill just grinned and relaxed against his armchair, closing his eyes and knowing full well she’d appreciate his humour once she cooled off.

“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?” Charlie’s voice sounded from a place near him. “I reckon she’s not ready to share you with another woman,” he laughed, slouching into the freshly vacated seat. “And neither is Mum.”

“They’ll get over it. They’re bound to see Fleur’s brilliant before long,” Bill shrugged.

“Honestly, mate, I doubt it,” Charlie shook his head and clamped a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I truly doubt it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops couldn't help myself hehe
> 
> those weasley kids are my heart and soul, you know. rant with me about them on tumblr @fightfortherightsofhouseelves


	7. pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if shell is the cottage, then their first born, their little Victoire is the pearl within :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a shortie, hope you'll still enjoy!

They brought her home only three days old, a petite bundle wrapped tightly and held close to her mother’s chest. They named her Victoire, a victory of the brave, a triumph of the good. She was her father’s pride, her young mother’s heart and soul.  
Victoire had great blue eyes and the waves at Shell Cottage reflected in them early in the morning. The sun danced in her hair, kissing her golden locks in little twirls. She grew up to the sound of the sea, her cheeks rosy in the warm weather encompassing their small home.   
On her father’s knees, she’d laugh and smile and never feel a care in the world. He was her hero and nobody was more powerful and skilled than him. Her mother, she was the most beautiful woman and no queen or empress could have had a lighter walk or a more graceful posture than her.   
“Nobody will ever hurt you, my sweet pearl,” Bill hummed as he lay his daughter to sleep. He thought about the battles he’d been through and about the friends he’d lost along the heavy road they had to walk. He thought about his brother and tears flooded his eyes. Hurt and loved crashed and burned inside his heart, knowing what it had cost them, as he watched his small daughter drift to sleep, as serenely as the swish of a feather in flight. She always had this soothing effect on him and soon he, too, started feeling that it was safe to sleep again. And so it will forever be.


End file.
